You Don't Know How You Met Me
by LoveHappyEndings
Summary: -She's walking up to Crowley now. Meg had always berated herself for that mistake she had made so long ago, giving away her soul to save her lover. Too bad she was doing it again. And this time, Meg wouldn't be coming back. "Save your brother...and my unicorn."- A chance meeting in the 1800's turns into something they both wish they could have savoured.


**What**** you need to know about this fic:**  
**-Might not be accurate towards the end, haven't watch season 8 in a while.**  
**-Can be considered AU**  
**-It's my new baby, I'm attached to Megara and writing in present tense.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own SPN, Rather Be, Follow Me, or vague references to Disney's Hercules.**

* * *

_We staked out on a mission to find our inner peace_  
_Make it everlasting so nothing's incomplete_  
_It's easy being with you, sacred simplicity_  
_As long as we're together, there's no place I'd rather be_

_You don't know how you met me_  
_You don't know why_  
_You can't turn around and say goodbye_  
_All you know is when I'm with you_  
_I make you free_  
_And swim through your veins like a fish in the sea_  
_I'm singin'..._

* * *

He doesn't know what makes him stop. He's mindlessly flying over a forest, not a physical form, when he sees it.

An inky, black, swirling bunch of smoke.

He lands, cautious of the demoness in front of him.

And then she's corporeal, a lady with black curls and a red lined hood. But he still see the horned _thing _underneath.

"An angel?" Her voice is smoky, "I really wouldn't be around these parts if I were you."

He casts a wary eye over her. "Why not?"

"So much sin, Treehopper," she laughs. "Everywhere."

"I'm not 'Treehopper'," he says mildly. "Castiel."

"Don't care." She turns and walks away.

He grabs her arm, "wait."

The demoness changes her eyes to black, it doesn't scare him away. "What do you want, Castiel?

"There is a war, neither side can afford to have a fighter away." She hears the unspoken question.

"If you think I'm not in Hell because I don't _like_ this war, you're wrong." She pulls away from him and leans against the nearest tree. "I _revel _in this, the blood and carnage. The humans running in a frenzy, not understanding, _never_ understanding, they get caught in the middle and are _slaughtered._"

Castiel inwardly cringes.

"Why aren't you on the clouds, Treehopper? Behind the pearly gates?"

"Because _I_ don't like this war."

"But you're a warrior."

"Who doesn't like the casualties. One less demon is no problem," he ignores her glare, "but the humans are being dragged into this."

"The best part."

"You were once human," he reminds her.

"And I've learned humans are cruel, they pick fights among themselves, their own kind," she snaps. "This world war isn't even about them, but somehow it is now."

"I apologize."

She laughs again, dark and with an edge. "You are a very odd angel, Castiel." She gets uncomfortably near his face, the heat from her meat suit is almost too hot. "Apologizing to me? The filth on an angel's holy boots?"

"Why do you sound like humans are the filth on your _sin covered_ boots?"

"Because they are, in some ways, worse than you angels."

Castiel detects a hint of bitterness in her voice, and says "what did they do to you?"

She leans in close, he's tempted to push her down. "That's none of your business."

* * *

He had left, still not understanding why he had landed in the first place.

Years pass and the armies in Heaven are winning, he doesn't join.

He does what he can on Earth, healing humans caught in between and restlessly traveling. From the cold North, then oversees. He is in Europe now, a little apartment in Paris.

His new vessel had been some handsome man involved in business, a very human sort of job.

Castiel spends his days wandering Paris, trying some of the Parisian food even though he doesn't have to eat.

"Castiel." He turns around in his chair, a petite brunette holds a cup of coffee.

To anyone, it's a pretty girl, untouched by the war and drinking an espresso drink.

They don't see the knife stashed inside her leather boots, or that beneath the skin and clothes she is a whirling mess of smoke and horns.

"You." He says. He nods to the chair across from him and she slumps into it. "Still enjoying the war?"

"Of course." She sips her drink. "You still against it?"

"Of course." They sit in silence, then "why do you hate humans so much?"

He almost thinks she'll brush him off, or use the knife on him, but she rolls her eyes and says in her sardonic tone of voice, "I don't know if it's because of this war, or because I'm going soft-" Castiel huffs in disbelief, "-but I think I'll tell you."

She tells him she made a deal with a crossroads demon, for her lover to live. But then her love left her for another woman and in ten years, she was dragged down to Hell.

"Where I was burned and tortured." She finishes. "Alone and cursing humans."

"I'm sorry," he says truthfully.

"Again, apologizing to a demon?" She snickers. "Are you all right in the head? Maybe we should admit you to one of those hospitals for the insane."

"I'm not crazy."

"Sure you aren't."

* * *

They travel together for months, leaving Paris for other places.

It isn't until Castiel sees her true form and realizes he doesn't care that she has horns and stinks of sulphur, that he likes her.

Loves her?

He puzzles over it for a couple days, until she comments on it.

"Why so glum, Angelcake?" She asks while she takes a monstrous bite out of an angel cake they bought.

"I do not know your name still." He lies, something he isn't used to doing. Unfortunately he finds himself doing a lot of things he isn't used to doing around her.

It surprises him when she answers with no hesitation. "Megara."

* * *

They travel together for three years. The war has long since ended, but little ones still crop up around the world.

"Megara," Castiel speaks from the bed in the inn they're staying at. "We need to talk."

"Talk."

"We can't go on like this." He says it as neutral as he can, but he knows he didn't succeed when her meat suit's pretty blue eyes change to black.

"Like what?"

"Pretending we don't feel anything."

She laughs, but it isn't the one he's heard for the past couple years. It's the one he heard when it all started, in that forest. Dark, and with an edge. "Feel? You of all things should know we are incapable of feeling."

"But we do."

Megara sneers, he's so preoccupied with her curled lip he doesn't see her eyes have changed back and look sad. "We don't."

"We do."

"_You _do."

"You don't?"

Her silence is enough for him.

"I'm sorry," he sits next to her. "I'm sorry for thinking you did."

"It's all right, Treehopper." She sees he has his hand in his pocket, fingers clasped around something. "What are you holding?"

"It was a present, but..." he shrugs, smiling sadly.

"As long as it isn't an engagement ring, I'm sure I'll be fine with it." She looks at him with thinly veiled horror. "It isn't an engagement ring right?"

"It's not." He hands her a leather chord, with something strung on it. "From when we went to Thailand."

The gleam from the small, rectangular, lotus engraved plate catches her eye. Then it's the red buddha and lastly the amulet part.

"This must have cost you a fortune." She hopes it didn't.

"Not exactly..." he scratches the back of his vessel's neck uncomfortably.

"You stole it?" Megara laughs, and he's pleased to hear it is it's usual husky one.

"You are a bad influence." He says.

"Thank you Castiel."

He stands. "I was right about one thing though."

"What was that?"

"We can't go on like this."

* * *

Megara lets herself into the shop silently, a knife already stashed in her boot.

"How can I help you?" The witch at the back of the shop asks.

"I have some memories that need ah...altering."

"I'm afraid I can't help you there. I can only remove them, dearie." Megara bites her lip hard. Suddenly the taste of metal fills her mouth.

"That's fine."

"Come to the back then."

She follows the witch behind the curtain and sits in the offered chair.

"Do you have anything we can store them in?"

"The what?" Megara tears her eyes from the little angel statue that looks like it's about to smite her.

"Your memories."

"I don't have a box or anything on me." She can't hold back the condescension in her voice.

"Your necklace will do fine." The witch holds out a hand for it.

Megara's ashamed to even _consider_ the amount of time it took her to get the necklace off.

As the witch sifts through the memories Megara asked removed, she speaks softly, "who is this Castiel?"

_Castiel and Megara had parted on good terms, her new piece of jewelry around her neck._

_"I hope you don't get involved in another war." Castiel says._

_"Oh who are we kidding? I was never involved in _this_ one." She laughs and because they say they are both incapable of feeling, they go separate ways without a hug or a goodbye._

It isn't natural for a demon to feel how she did for anyone, much less an angel of the Lord. And she needs those feelings gone. What if something happens to him and she goes down that road she had so long ago?

Megara opens her mouth to say he is just someone she had loved, when the most peculiar feeling washes over her.

"I'll ask again. Who is this Castiel?"

"Who?"

* * *

"We're going to Heaven Clarence." Meg's new meatsuit's pretty lips turn up in a wide grin.

Things progress, she's uncomfortably close to his face and he pushes her down and walks across her burning body.

She curses him.

* * *

Meg's kissing him only to get his angel blade, when he pushes her up against the wall, hands tangled in her hair in what could be the only dirty kiss that's ever made her feel clean.

* * *

Castiel tries not to stare at her as he holds "Crowley's bones". Yes it's for the plan, but now he does it to save her. To save Megara.

_As he steps into the shop, the witch's eyes widen in horror. "An angel?" _

_He can't believe he, an angel of the Lord, is doing this. "I'm not here to hurt you. Please."_

_The witch looks to the eavesdropping customers, knowing she has no choice. S__he asks "and how can I help you?" _

_"Memories." _

_"I'll need something to store them in."_

_"I don't have anything. Just my clothes."_

_"I can't do anything if you don't have anything to store it in." Her voice is verging on panic._

_"Can you give it a trigger?"_

_"A trigger?"_

_"Yes." Castiel stares at the witch with determination. "I know this will sound odd, but could you have them locked away, until we kiss?"_

_"We?"_

_"Me and..." he gestures helplessly._

_"Ah, the woman, or man, in your memories?" She doesn't want to offend him._

_"The woman. And yes."_

_"I think I can do that. Come to the back please."_

Megara's here, and doesn't remember him? What if she had had her memories messed with too?

The look she gives him isn't familiarity, but it isn't indifference either.

What happened?

* * *

Meg feels like slapping herself in the face, maybe getting one of the Winchester's to do it for her. Why hadn't she recognized the name Castiel until now?

Of course. She taps her necklace. Christian had nicked it while "torturing" her. What an amateur. Once it was damaged, despite it being the tiniest nick ever, the memories had appeared.

Paris, everywhere else they had visited, her feelings...

She's fled away, somewhere to lie low. Away from the angel.

* * *

She's walking up to Crowley now. Meg had always berated herself for that mistake she had made so long ago, giving away her soul to save her lover.

Too bad she was doing it again. And this time, Meg wouldn't be coming back.

"Save your brother...and my unicorn."

* * *

**Reviews are loved!**


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